Frozen, Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1 - A Child from Fire

Grand Papi was enjoying a nice stay by the steam vents. It had been a bit of an eventful day, what with Geto and Ruti getting into a fight over rock patches and then causing a minor brawl with their cousins out of boredom. Ah, but he wouldn't trade his many-greats grand-children for the world. Maybe for a hot spring, but not for the world.

Just as he was about roll up for the night, he saw a small mote of orange light gather before him. Slowly, more and more motes joined it, until it was a glowing ball of light akin to a fire in midair. As more motes joined it, the fire took on the shape of a bird. From there, the bird's eyes landed upon Grand Papi. In that moment, the elder troll knew something momentous and life-changing was about to happen.

From the body of the bird grew a small child, looking to be no more than twelve seasons old, when it would barely start speaking. Why was such a young man-child being left with them? Then their minds joined.

'Many-journeys, long-weathered, tired-child, rock-breaking, rest-seasons...'

On and on, the bird of fire told the story understood only by those old enough to have learned to associate a meaning to nearly anything. Gradually, it built the picture of a child-man, tired and ready to pass long before it should, like a stone that has been beaten, scorched and frozen just to see it break. It was a terrible fate to pass on to any being, but to have it placed upon a youngling before they were strong enough to understand the burden was heart-breaking for the elderly troll to hear. It was apparent that this being was fond of the child and wished to give it rest, let it return to strength and perhaps even find new strength. Grand Papi was honored that this being, obviously powerful, trusted them to watch over its favored friend.

'Good-rest, long-healing, happy-mornings, peaceful-nights, heart-healing.' With this, Grand Papi let the bird know that he would take care of it. Then the bird spoke in a voice that was not its own but seemed fitting. It was the voice of a man, elderly but unmistakeably powerful.

"_**Well met, Stonehenge, son of the mountains. May your days be long and full. We may yet meet again. I am one known as Fawkes, and this is Harry, son of James and loved by manyy. Watch over this one, for he is a precious treasure to this world and to me. He was born under a troubled star, but I have brought him to be here under a peaceful sky. Perhaps he will be blessed by it. Though he is brought here to heal, I bring him also as a gift to this world. Though it does not need a Hero, perhaps he can still save the small things from ruin. I am not long for this world, as mine is another, but we may yet meet again. Be well.**_" And with a swirl of fire it was gone.

The old troll sat there for a while, watching as the various motes that remained wandered off into the forest. Finally recalling that he had been given the watch of a child, the elderly troll rolled over to the child and examined him. He noted a faded scar above his eye, shaped like a lightning bolt. "Lightning, eh? Well, we shall call you Harold Jamesson, the Stormbrow!"


	2. Chapter 2 - A Brotherhood Begins

Harry yawned loudly as he woke up. Carefully stepping around his many siblings, more to avoid making noise then to avoid nudging them, he hurried away from their little clearing to reach the ridge. Hopefully he had made it in time... he had! The first hints of dawn had only just touched the sky. Harry sat upon his favorite spot to watch the sun rise, taking a moment to reminisce.

It had been five years since Fawkes brought Harry to this world, and if Harry had the chance, he would dedicate an entire week to showering the bird in affectionate gratitude and still feel indebted. This new world that was completely apart from his former home - though the maps did bear a resemblance to the continent - had allowed Harry a moment to just not be Harry Potter. Here, he was Harry Jamesson. The young trolls called him Stormbrow because they thought it a better name, but Harry was just thankful they were there. They were his family, crazy though he believed them to be, and he loved them all too much to put into words.

The war... he didn't often think of it these days, preferring to dwell in the moment and occasionally plan for the weekend. The first few years he was here had been terrible for him, as each night brought on nightmares of his loved ones dying in his arms. Sometimes the trolls would catch him, a toddler with untamed raven locks and sad green eyes, staring at nothing as he remembered the dead or dying faces from his old world.

The trolls had helped him heal that pain. They hadn't asked him to talk about it, and the older ones had allowed him the time to himself at first. Six months in, however, Bulda had decided that he was sulking too much and given him noogies until he reacted by chasing her. People probably would've been hurt when he started yelling at them to go away. Bulda called for reinforcements. By the time they were done, Harry was smiling. Like it or not, they were determined that he would enjoy himself with them, and that's just what he decided to do.

Some days, he would spend a day roaming the woods with Bulda and a few of the others, looking at plants and animals. Others he would play checkers with Grand Pebble, as he had nicknamed the elder troll. The forest offered many challenges for him, from trees and rock walls to climb, to creeks and rivers that he learned to swim. He'd built a fort out of branches and mud with Bulda once, just to see how it might turn out. The children would often listen to him tell them stories of strange places and other worlds; Harry drew most of them from movies he and Hermione had watched when the war got to be too much for them.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of this new world had been learning how to find food. The trolls taught him what they could of what was and wasn't safe to eat, but Harry learnt most of it by trial and error. After learning about a few plants that were good, he started taking nibbles of the rest to see if they made him sick. He had two or three close calls, but the trolls had simply fed and watered him while his magic took care of the rest. He sometimes found himself missing things like oranges and chocolate, but Harry had grown up on very little, and the joy he took from being with the trolls more than made up for missing out on a few treats. On the upside, Harry learned that the local kingdom called Arandelle - more of a small town by his standards - had an excellent crop of apples each year. He would sometimes wander into the village and barter for a cup of hot cider with some cinnamon bark in it.

It had been in the village that Harry started up a new hobby. In a world without technology, pastimes had to be something you could do yourself, either with what you had on hand or what you could get from someone else. Harry, being just five at the time of his first journey into Arandelle, had been quite limited. Swordplay and archery were a ways beyond someone of his limited size and stature. Likewise he found the roughhousing of the other boys to be a bit too childish for him, even in his young body. So it was that Harry found his newest pastime - art.

Music had come first. Harry had been wandering along the walls of the castle when he heard a little girl humming a mindless tune. Waiting a bit to get a feel for the melody and rhythm, Harry started to harmonize from across the wall. It was apparent that the girl heard him, as the humming grew louder. They never talked that day, nor on any of his visits after that, but Harry liked to think that he made a friend. Inspired, he had bartered a month of service with a local craftsman in exchange for a flute, and later a guitar. It had been more than a little frustrating at first, trying to figure out how to get the music to actually sound like music, but the results were worth it. He would now often provide music at meals and before sleeping, strumming his guitar as they ate and sending soothing melodies across the clearing that seemed to be almost magical in their ability to calm the youngest of the trolls.

From his forays into music had come carving. Harry had been interested when he watched the craftsman create his instruments, and had managed to convince the man to teach him how to carve wood. It wasn't much; most of the teaching was about taking care of his tools. According to the woodsman, the best teacher for carving was plain and simple experience. Fortunately, Harry had an abundant supply of wood around the glade the trolls lived in.

Drawing had actually started with the trolls, as they would sometimes go into nearby caves and draw crude caricatures of various animals and mountains they saw nearby. Harry, not content with what he saw, decided to practice it endlessly. He had many failures, far more than he cared to remember, before it started resembling what he wanted it to look like. He still felt it wasn't good, but given his success with music, art had made good enough progress in his mind.

When he wasn't dabbling in various arts or exploring the village, Harry and trolls would have contests - distance throwing, wrestling, target hitting, races and the like. While he had always been rather fast and agile due to the amount of fleeing he had to do as a child, Harry proved to be surprisingly strong by winning a few of the wrestling contests. The prizes were usually silly things, like bragging rights or a title that the losers had to introduce them with.

Titles were often met by giggles, as the children that attempted to walk like the silly nobles would stumble over their clunky feet, sending everyone including the stumbler into peals of laughter and cute giggles. The others laughed because it was funny, and the stumbler laughed because the others laughed. Harry loved how caring and open they were, that even mistakes were more funny than embarrassing. It was easy to see that they were simple, honest folk. They didn't _need_ to be better than the others, so there was no reason for the insecurity and casual cruelty common to most people Harry had known.

Harry was happy. He had his troll family, all boredom aside, and they were all he needed. He wouldn't give them up for anything. Or so he thought...

* * *

Harry was on his way back from collecting some new carving scraps when Meetie came rolling down the ridge.

"Harry! Harry! The king and queen are heading towards the Glade!"

The young wizard sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, a quick clip indeed. He arrived just to hear two adults, obviously the king and queen, begin explaining what was

"I think its best if we remove all magic, even the memory-"

"Alright, Grand Pebble, what's going on here?"

"Harry! There is a young girl here who has been struck with the princess's magic. It is an icy magic, and it seeps into her being as we speak. I'm going to remove it, and just to be safe-"

"I think I've heard enough, Grand Pebble. Perhaps I should take over from here," Harry interrupted the old troll. Turning to the royal family, he found the princesses in question, both the victim and her sister. The elder sister was more than a little confused at the lack of respect Harry seemed to show his obvious elder. His eyes focused on Elsa's.

"Do you love your sister?"

"Of course!" replied Elsa. The very idea of not loving Anna was foreign to her.

"Do you wish to see her well?"

Sensing that there was something behind these questions, Elsa nodded.

"What would you do to save her?"

"Anything." The determination in the princess's voice was clear.

"Sing with me. Feel your love - feel it deeply - and sing with me. Feel your wish to heal her and sing with me."

(Vuelie Reprise from the Great Thaw)

With that, Harry began singing. He didn't know why this was what he thought of. It just seemed right. As the two sang, however, he began to feel that same hope that Fawkes' song always managed to inspire.

The trolls, seeing and sensing the magic gathering in their song, joined in. When the King and Queen began to understand that something was happening beyond two children singing, they also joined. As they did, they were amazed by the light show that came across the clearing. Harry and Elsa were glowing. Harry was like a brilliant orange flame with tongues of yellow and red fire intermixed; Elsa was a swirling wind, blues and purples finding their way into the eddies around her.

Gradually, a tongue of deep blue was pulled out of Elsa, a green mist following it before sinking back into Anna.

With a sigh, Harry and Elsa stopped singing. Elsa was beaming at Harry, having noticed that Anna was no longer ice cold; unnoticed by her or Harry, a slight blush covered her face. Harry was simply basking in the warm feelings that came from channeling all of that positive emotion. He was also feeling very happy at having saved the little girl's sister.

"You have an incredible gift," spoke the elder troll. "There is great beauty in it, but also great danger. Fear will be your greatest enemy."

"Grand Pabbie is right, you know - about fear being your enemy. He just didn't explain it very well. Stupid dramatic misty visuals," Harry finished with a mutter. He took the girl's hands in his own, bringing her focus to bear on him. "Magic is a part of you. It wants to help you. When you're afraid, it wants to protect you. This is when you get the most dangerous reactions from your magic, as you usually aren't sure exactly what should happen to protect yourself. You need to learn to control your fear. Don't be afraid to feel afraid, just don't let it overwhelm you."

"You should practice protecting yourself with your power," Harry continued. "That way you already know what to do when you're scared. When magic reacts on instinct to protect you, it can use rather harsh methods. You need to master it first, so it knows what you want even before you do. Make solid shields of ice instead of spikes. Trap your opponent in icy shackles or a bubble rather than pin him with spears. Basically, go for round things rather than pointy things. People like snowmen, but they're afraid of big knives."

The King and Queen were amazed at the wisdom Harry showed about wielding magic. While it was obvious he had magic of his own, it had been less obvious that he was more experienced at using it. They began to wonder how a friendship between him and Elsa might turn out.

Elsa tittered at the thought of an army of Olaf's with snowball pouches marching on the enemy shouting things like 'I like warm hugs! Lets throw snowballs!'

Coming back to reality, she realized Harry was still holding her hands and blushed, ducking her head. Leaning in, she kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thank you."

With that, she picked up her sister and rushed over to her parents.

The queen, who had watched the proceedings, had to stifle a giggle at the wondrous expression on Harry's face as he lifted a hand to his cheek. It was going to be a lot of fun seeing if she could get the two to meet again, and he had already given her a reason. "Child, would you wish to come with us back to the palace? I would love to have you help our daughter with her magic, and we can teach you to read and write, or anything else you might wish to learn."

Harry, broken out of his trance, stared at the queen as he wrestled with what he had been taught about royalty. On the one hand, the queen was obviously asking a favor, and her daughter _did_ need training. On the other hand, Harry didn't want to abandon his family. Who knows what person might-

It was at this moment that Bulda made herself known. "Oh, looky everyone! I found us a few cuties! Harry can I keep them? I promise to feed and water them!"

Harry gave her a blank stare. "Aren't you older than me? Why are you asking me about this?"

Bulda pouted. "Well, I don't want you to feel bad about leaving, so I thought I'd let you know that you're new brother can look after things. Isn't it cute?"

The blond, obviously more than a little mortified by the attention, decided to speak up. "Hey, I'm not an it! I"m a _he,_ and my name is Kristoff!"

Harry laughed, reminded of his pouting years. "You might as well give in, brother. I've seen snowstorms with less willpower, and there have been some pretty stubborn ones. I'm Harry. Can you look after things? I promise to come visit you all whenever I can!"

Kristoff, although a bit put out by the assumption he would agree, puffed up under the importance that was being handed to him by a complete stranger... just like any other child his age. "Of course I can look after things! Don't you worry, they'll be safe with me!"

And just like that, Harry got a brother. It was amazing how simple things like this could be when you were kids.


End file.

Frozen, Harry Potter, Adventure, Family